from Letters to Kelly Clarkson

Dear Kelly,

I hear you’ve parted your hair a new way for the music video. I myself am dividing tasks according to what can be completed in front of the television, the depressive’s gesticulations toward order. On my complaint letter to the airlines, my “sincerely” has been upgraded to “best wishes” — the twitching rabbit of ordinary brutality. Small bones, you say. Still, you must protect your throat from the hawks that can swoop down like the next big lie.